LXXVII - INDEPENDENT EARTH
Not satisfied to ride one of the heavy armored tanks, or one of the weapons platforms, Margaret opted for a scout car armed with a rack of four antitank missiles and two light machine guns. Mobility was everything, especially for this sort of brawl; the heavy stuff was claustrophobic. A minor detail she had neglected to mention to psych officers over the years. The seat was hot and burned the back of her thighs. Her driver, a mad woman named Booly, hit the gas, launched the car off a small rise, and hit the hard pan at forty mph. The gunners, anonymous behind their visors, grinned. Margaret would have been thrown out of her seat if it hadn't been for the harness. She kept a firm grip on the frame mounted grab bar and tried to peer through the oncoming dust and smoke. What was it that C
- Writer
